


Love you right, with addictive tendencies

by AllHailTheUnderDogs



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Escort Service, Falling In Love, Fluff and Smut, Idiots in Love, M/M, Sexting, non siblings au, sex worker Klaus, still counting it as incest because we aren't ashamed of our fics in this house
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:48:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25960042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllHailTheUnderDogs/pseuds/AllHailTheUnderDogs
Summary: Luther, in all of his infinite wisdom, uses his one brain cell to set up his friend with an escort.
Relationships: Diego Hargreeves/Klaus Hargreeves
Comments: 13
Kudos: 83





	Love you right, with addictive tendencies

It all comes to a head after the Parker case falls through. Like a jinx that sends the rest of their shift into disarray.

Luther can’t remember the last time he worked a triple homicide through the night, finishing up at seven in the morning, making it an unhealthy nineteen hour shift. He’s pretty sure that the overtime isn’t going to be worth the ugly ache in his shoulder as he rotates his arm to loosen it before he starts on the mound of paperwork that's building on his desk.

Diego’s primed next to him, cheek already bruising under the harsh fluorescent lighting from a tussle with their suspect ending with an elbow slamming into his face. Luther thinks that this, rather than the six-block stretch that they’d pursued the guy is what has his partner fuming behind his terminal.

Then to place a cherry on top of the shit-show sundae of their shift, as Diego colourfully puts it, Chuck finishes the last of the coffee in the break room and nervously offers up the dusty bag of de-caff permanently relegated to the back of the cupboard as a replacement.

Finally, when Vanya, from legal, who’s already had the joy of sharing the news that their case dropped, comes back down to tell them that their warrant for another case will be delayed for at least a few weeks, it’s the last straw.

Diego’s ready to blow when Patch smartly calls him in to do so in her office where the shrapnel is least likely to get him in trouble. Their captain is valiant like that.

Luther watches him go and isn’t surprised when he swivels back around to find he has company.

“How long do you give him?” Allison leans against Luther’s desk even though he doesn’t know how she got in this time, and then flicks the back of his ear affectionately, forcing him to acknowledge her. “Vanya, I’m putting three minutes on the clock.”

Vanya shakes her head in dismay but stops anyway because her timidity vanishes whenever the taller woman comes by. “He’s going to get a disciplinary again.”

“Don’t sound too excited.” Luther says.

“I won’t.” Allison says, and sounds the complete opposite if the look of sly entertainment is anything to go by.

“Haven’t you got anything better to do?” Luther tries to push the stack of paperwork towards her to see if it’ll unseat the tenacious lawyer from her perch.

It doesn’t.

“Nope, not outside of seeing my favourite and only brother get pulled up for being a smartass.” Though as she says it there’s a tub of Folgers classic roast blend being placed on Diego’s desk.

“And not,” Luther slams a wide hand over the file she tries to curiously glance over and slides it into his drawer, “to see if you can rub it in our face about Parker.”

“Why on earth would I do that?”

“Because your kind take pleasure in releasing criminals before they see their day in court.”

Allison rolls her eyes. “Stop with the heroes in blue talk, I doubt the worlds going to shit because I got an innocent man freed.”

“He was running a pharmaceutical scam?!”

“Allegedly, plus is it really a scam if hypothetically the criminal is doing it to help redistribute epi-pens and diabetic medication to the poor?”

Luther isn’t going down this road. Not a chance. He made that mistake the last time they went out on a ‘bonding experience’ and he had to try and do battle - whilst a half dozen drinks in - to defend his job against Allison’s stance on big-pharma companies and undermining them in anyway possible. He’s learnt to keep a ten-foot pole between the two of them whenever he’s too inebriated to give such topics the full attention they deserve.

“Your brother does seem incredibly… frustrated.” Vanya says.

They all go back to watching Diego hit a full head of steam, Luther swears he can feel the vibrations ricocheting from the force Patch slams her hand down on the desk.

Allison snaps her fingers. “You’re not wrong sweetie. Baby brother just needs to get laid.”

“Do I really need to know that?” Luther grunts.

“Everyone needs to get laid sometime.” Allison shrugs as they watch Patch lose it. “You’d be surprised what a good orgasm can do to shake free the stick up your ass.”

"Again, no-one needs to know that."

"Do you need me to help you out there Luther?" She grins and rubs a hand over his aching shoulder which does nothing to help his composure.

Vanya winces as she’s wont to do in these circumstances. “I think he needs more help than that.”

Luther is in agreement, and he’s also thinking which has never been considered a good thing when it comes to tenuous circumstances. “Not everything is to do with sex.”

Both women look at him.

Luther backs down immediately.

“Shit.” Allison sighs watching the office window.

They all groan in unison as Diego says something inevitably stupid and Patch finds a new gear in their shouting match. The spectacular wrath of their Captain is enough that Luther’s cringing in his seat, though admittedly Diego’s head is thick enough he manages to only look mildly uncomfortable.

"Seriously, he needs to rub one out before she takes him over her knee."

"Could you try and make it sound like you don't want to watch your brother get spanked." Luther grimaces.

Her lips twitch in amusement and it's only the buzzing of her phone that draws her attention away, letting out an exasperated sound at whatever she's read. “Well trust fund, it’s been nice but some of us have work to do if we want to keep a roof over our heads.” Allison says as if she didn’t go home with a six-figure bonus last year. She blows them both a kiss before sauntering out of the bullpen. “See you soon Vanny.”

"How does she keep getting past security?" Vanya smiles.

"Beats me." Then...

“Vanya.” Luther calls out just before the woman disappears back into the depths of legal and they don’t see her again for at least a month.

“Yeah?”

“Was Ally right? About, you know…”

Vanya pauses, appears thoughtful and then shrugs. “Maybe, maybe not. But how often is she wrong on these things?”

That’s very true.

Luther’s still thinking about it when Diego stomps past their desk a half hour later, swipes up the tub of coffee and disappears into the break room and the sound of their aged coffee maker sputtering to life is accompanied by a series of incredibly creative curses and one threat to start a satanic ritual _if you don’t give me my fucking drink._

Allison is definitely right, and Luther might have an idea of how to help.

They’ve been partners for the last seven years and they’re, not to put too much of a spin on it, incredibly good at their job. They’ve got the best case closure rate in the precinct and there’s a lot to be said when it comes to finding the perfect fit in their line of work. They’ve done the late nights, the long stake-outs, the pursuits and subsequent injuries. Luther can remember the first time he was shot and found his prickly friend sat ramrod straight at the foot of his hospital bed when he woke up.

In all of this time he’s never known Diego to take more than a few, short relationships, the longest of which must be years ago now.

When Diego returns and throws himself into his chair, swivelling it a full three-hundred-and-sixty degrees before stopping with a foot on top of the joint paperwork they’re meant to be doing, Luther puts out some feelers.

“You look like you could do with getting laid, Diaz.”

Diego snorts and then winces as he leans forward and the tarmac burn where he’d grazed his arms tackling their suspect to the ground must be smarting. “At this point, man, I think I’d pay good money for someone that actually knows how to give a proper blowjob.”

“Seriously?” He laughs before accepting the half-spilled mug shoved across to him.

“Probably.” Diego grimaces as he takes a too soon gulp of burning liquid. “You know how hard it is to find someone that can put up with all of this.”

Luther does get that, it’s not great doing what they do. Their humour is typically skewed to accommodate the, at times, horrific things they see, and whenever he’s met someone it normally fills him with a sense of dread to describe what he does. He’s had a whole range of reactions, from the excited and curious end of the scale and veering to the disturbed and discomforted.

“That’s true.”

“Damn right it is.” Diego says and groans as he looks over the report they have to finish before they can finally stagger home. “Most people don’t like cops, and honestly man, I can’t fucking blame them.”

Luther, who’s met a whole range of law enforcement professionals in his time, doesn’t disagree.

“So no love for you?”

“If you find the perfect guy that can put up with all of this, then let me know.”

Well there they go. Luther’s going to take that as a blessing.

And if it’s bullshit, then Luther can’t be held responsible because how is he meant to be able to tell when all that ever comes out of Diego’s mouth is thinly veiled aggression masked as sarcasm.

* * *

Luther studies the street with interest. It all seems dreadfully normal, there’s a generic chain-brand store selling sporting goods at one end and the other boasts a family run Vietnamese takeaway with. The apartment buildings on the other side seem tasteful with all three staffed by doormen, the sidewalks immaculately swept to keep it free for the people milling about.

Nothing suggests, as Luther passes a busy coffee shop that has artfully decorated rust and exposed metal beams to make a statement with drinks that have too many words in the title, that one of the highest esteemed escort services in the state is hidden behind the veneer of an exclusive bar.

He’s striding down an alleyway to find the side entrance that he was informed to use when he spoke to the owner, when he catches a distinct rattling coming from a dumpster to his side, the whole thing vibrating hard enough the rusted wheels start squeaking.

Now Luther is an officer of the law, he’s supposed to investigate suspicious noises such as the loud _thwack_ as something knocks about in there. He’s also not in the mood to be embarrassed by a large rat or two that might have set up shop in there.

He decides to settle on rapping his knuckles against it.

“Fuck off.” The dumpster spits back.

Feeling somewhat stupid about engaging with what could be some genetically altered rodent that speaks Gods tongue, Luther hesitantly tries again.

“Do you know where I can find a Five?”

He feels just as stupid saying it as he did when he spoke to the man himself after spending hours going through too many accidental porn sites in search of what he needs before he ended up finding an escort service that seemed stylistic enough that its website didn’t immediately open up to multiple men with semen on their faces.

“Periwinkle door to your left.”

Luther sees it and he’s not sure what shade periwinkle is but it’s also the only door before he walks straight into a dead end. He isn’t sure how to thank whatever the hell is living in the trash, goes to open the lid and receives another prompt _fuck off_ for his efforts.

Fair enough.

Luther leaves the territorial trash rat to its business and knocks on the back door.

The man who answers doesn’t look old enough to even drink at what’s supposed to be the most exclusive bar in town. In fact he looks like he should be interning at some fortune one-thousand company in the type of place that put out edgy dark horse darling games that had too much dialogue and pomp for Luther to enjoy. He’s barely comes to Luther’s chin, dark hair sweeping across his forehead and there’s a distinctive sneer that seems like it’s permanently etched onto his face.

He looks like the type of guy that would choose a number for a name just to be difficult.

“Can I help you?”

“We spoke on the phone, I’m-”

“Luther. The detective that wants to help his friend get off. I know.” Five jerks his head and Luther takes it to mean that he should follow as Five moves surprisingly fast for the owner of such short legs. "You had a very soft description of what you need from us."

His office is spacious, with only a large bank tellers lamp illuminating his desk. The walls from what Luther can tell are varying shade of lilac and chalk paint on one entire stretch where he can barely decipher the squiggles etched across it. There’s a strange assortment of chintz armchairs and pouffes scattered about, a sagging couch adjacent to the desk, and there’s a state of the art coffee machine at the back of the room. One of those with the little pipes that froth the milk up and too many dials for Luther to ever work out. When Five sinks down into his seat, the back dwarfing his narrow shoulders, Luther wonders if he naturally exudes an air of chronic arrogance or it’s just that he’s annoyed with receiving a client.

The whole setup is nothing like he’s seen before in his decade on the force, or what anything like the movies try to lead people in to believing.

“From the information you gave me earlier I meant to have the perfect person here for you to meet. Do you mind waiting a few minutes?” Five asks, without it really seeming like a question.

“No worries.” Luther says, mainly because he’s never been in this situation before without a warrant and it’s probably best to follow Five’s lead here.

“Can I get you a drink?” Five offers, and when Luther nods goes to that metal monstrosity and starts fiddling with it.

“You have interesting security.” Luther says to lighten the mood, or to stop him bouncing his leg awkwardly.

Five quirks a brow at him.

“The dumpster outside told me to get lost.”

“Why would… That fucker.” The younger man scowls, more than he was in the first place, places his coffee mug back down beside the machine, removes his blazer, folds it neatly over the back of his chair and storms out while loosening his tie.

Over the course of the next few minutes Luther can hear what sounds like a series of shrieks like a cat being bathed, an increasingly shrill voice being raised and a muffled coughing, then Five marches back in with the air of someone that’s done something supremely satisfying and doesn’t mind that he might lose custom because of it.

The man that slopes in just behind is the very picture of what Luther was imagining, lithe and slender, pretty in a way even he can appreciate, the only disparity being that he never pictured the right guy to be one that’s standing in front of him dripping excessively from what seems like a hose being run over him, skirt plastered to his pale legs.

“Klaus, thanks for making the effort to show up today.” Five says congenially.

“No problem.” Klaus strips his shirt - if it can be called that, which Luther isn’t sure such an insubstantial strip of fabric can claim to be clothing – off and rings it out onto the laminate flooring. “You know I was working.”

“In the trash?”

“Where else can I channel my inner filth to talk dirty to all the perverts you find me?”

“It can’t be that difficult, you talk enough shit without needing to be surrounded by it.”

Luther clears his throat and Klaus doesn’t seem to notice him, aside from to ask Five. “Who’s this?”

“Another pervert who wants to hire you.”

Which is so far from the truth right now that Luther almost laughs. Instead he goes to object.

“That’s not actually why I’m-”

“He’s way too young.”

“What?” Luther gets caught up in the confusion of what’s happening here.

“No offence, I’m sure that you’d be fun big guy, but normally I seem to be grandpa friendly. You catch what I’m saying.”

No. No he does not. Not at fucking all.

“Are you alright?” He says instead.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Klaus watches him with an amused grin while Luther does a weird hand gesture over his head trying to indicate his impromptu shower. “Let guys jerk off onto my hair? Sure if they pay enough.”

“For fuck sake Klaus, you’re scaring him.” Five scowls. “Do you like getting paid?”

Klaus leans over and pats Luther on the shoulder, nails the same shade of green as his eyes. “Don’t be silly Five, I could be in the middle of a threesome cum-blind and I’d be able to tell this big boy is disgustingly straight.”

“It’s not for me.” Luther stumbles to qualify.

“Oh, and who pray tell are you willing to fork out a small fortune for?”

“My partner.”

“Bravo.” Klaus claps his hands together excitedly. “That’s the sort of relationship I need to get in on.”

Five looks like he’s tempted to throw the stapler from his desk at his employee’s head. “He means a work partner. Luther’s a detective.”

Klaus flops down onto the couch against the far wall, sinks into it’s worn stuffing, limbs splayed exaggeratively in an exposed manner. “That’s fine, I have a uniform kink that demands feeding now and again.”

“Homicide detective’s don’t wear uniforms.” Five groans and rubs his forehead.

“Oh.” Klaus pouts.

Luther is starting to think that he’s made a _very_ bad choice. “I probably shouldn’t be so rash about this, take some time-”

“Believe it or not, Luther,” Five cuts him off, “this idiot is one of the best in the business.”

“Hey, I’m _the_ best.” Klaus’ eyes widen in some sort of faux outrage and he shifts till he’s kneeling on the couch hands resting on his leather clad thighs, and yeah, Luther can see how that sort of face is appealing when it’s upturned to meet his. “Tell me what you need and it’ll be done, I can be your blushing virgin, suck a mean dick or exorcise your living room for fun. Bonus points if I get to do all three at once.”

“For the last fucking time,” Five seethes, hands planted on his desk, “you don’t see ghosts.”

“If I can see four inches and make a man think it’s ten then is it hard to believe that I see ghosts.” Klaus sniffs.

Luther chokes a little, on nothing but air.

“One’s an exaggeration and the others pure nonsense. Now can we get back on track.”

Klaus reclines again, the hint of muscle under his belly shifting and Luther cautiously thinks that if there’s anyone that can put up with Diego’s brash attitude it might be the brunette as he starts enthusiastically debating the existence of paranormal activity. It’s almost in disbelief that he watches Klaus pull out a folded bit of sugar paper and starts devouring a piece of baklava with relish.

By the time Klaus is finished and is taking a particular interest in sucking each finger into his mouth with a wet pop, Luther realises there’s a strange, creeping heat rising up his neck and skimming the tips of his ears when he sees that Five is watching him, smirking with the knowledge knows that he’s made an easy sell.

“Shall we talk details?”

**Author's Note:**

> Thus we conclude Luther's POV and get straight into our favourite dumpster diving trash panda.
> 
> I'm taking soooo many artistic liberties with this fic, it's all fictitious and in no way am I going to claim any detailed accuracy in here as I don't have the experience and would never want to do it disservice.
> 
> I've written so much hurt/comfort and angst recently that I feel like although there will probably be a little bit of frustration and miscommunication in this fic, it'll primarily be a happy, gentle and silly bit of fun where it's just people falling in love and all of the confusion that comes with that.
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy.


End file.
